deep disappointment. They started their chess game again last night,
Colonel Talbot to make the first move with his king, but before he could
decide upon any course with that king the orders came for us to get
ready for the march. The chessmen went into the box, and they'll have
another chance, probably after we beat Burnside."

They went on up the valley, through the scenes of triumphs remembered so
well. All around them were their battlefields of the spring, and there
were the massive ridges of the Massanuttons that Jackson had used so
skillfully, not clothed in green now, but with the scanty leaves of
closing autumn.

Neither Harry nor any of his comrades knew just where they were going.
That secret was locked fast under the old slouch hat of Jackson, and
Harry, like all the others, was content to wait. Old Jack knew where he
was going and what he meant to do. And wherever he was going it was the
right place to go to, and whatever he meant to do was just the thing
that ought to be done. His extraordinary spell over his men deepened
with the passing days.

As they went farther southward they saw sheltered slopes of the
mountains where the foliage yet glowed in the reds and yellows of autumn,
"purple patches" on the landscape. Over ridges to both east and west
the fine haze of Indian summer yet hung. It was a wonderful world,
full of beauty. The air was better and nobler than wine, and the creeks
and brooks flowing swiftly down the slopes flashed in silver.

There were no enemies here. The people, mostly women and children--
nearly all the men had gone to war--came out to cheer them as they
passed, and to bring them what food and clothing they could. The Valley